chapter thirty-one

Later, we all go out to the beach, run up to the wind-whipped waves, and kick our bare feet in the cool water. Well, everyone else but me does. I hang back at first, chest tightening as Peach barrels toward the sea in her mermaid shirt with her arms spread wide. My feet are inches from the surf but still on dry sand. At least I took my shoes off. I look down, wiggle my toes, squishing them between and around centuries of crushed-up shells and organic matter, something I haven’t done in two years. A smile tugs at my mouth.

Still, stepping closer to the sea feels like walking off a cliff right now. I look up, look out, look at all that endless blue, mysteries underneath, whole worlds, and my stomach flutters, nervousness and excitement crashing like a tsunami inside me. I remind myself I’ve been under those waves. I went under, went deep, and I survived.

Twice.

I’m still here.

But my heart won’t seem to catch up to my brain. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I don’t know, but it’s strange, to want something so much and be so terrified of it at the same time.

I watch my friends—that’s who they are, my friends—splash in the waves with my sister, Lemon twirling Peach around in the surf just like I would do if I could.

I feel the moment Jules notices me just standing there, because they stop trying to skid across the sand just a few steps away from me and lock eyes with me, tilt their head in a question.

“That’s a great activity if you want to break your ankle,” I say, but I’m smiling.

They smile back, then jog over to me, shoulder lightly grazing mine as we look out at the ocean together.

“So,” they say.

“So,” I say.

And then we just stand there, silent, except it doesn’t feel silent. My body is a riot of noise inside—heart drumming, blood zinging, palms so sweaty I’m sure they must be making a sound like a river burbling over rocks.

“So,” I say again.

“So,” they say back, a little laugh just underneath the tiny word.

And then… our hands meet. I don’t know if I reached for them or they reached for me. Maybe it happened at the exact same time, which feels like magic, but it also feels so real, because our palms press together and then each one of their fingers slips in between each one of mine so we’re all tangled up, and I couldn’t stop the grin from curling onto my mouth if I tried, but I don’t try because I’m holding hands with Jules and they’re holding hands with me and they’re grinning too.

“So,” Jules says.

“So,” I say.

“Walk with me?” they say, then tug me toward the water a little.

I freeze. I don’t let go, but I pull on their hand enough that they freeze too.

Jules frowns, eyes soft.

I look out at the water again. My heart feels like the south end of a magnet, the sea the north, the pull so strong I feel tears starting to form in my eyes.

Jules keeps hold of my hand, but they turn toward Lemon and Kiko and Peach, and Jules must give them some sort of MerSquad signal, because soon all of them are running up to me, salt water splashing behind them.

Lemon takes my other hand. Kiko takes hers. Peach latches on to Jules’s other hand and bounces up and down.

Lemon squeezes my palm. I look at her and my eyes must be full of fear, because her expression goes soft and she leans her forehead against mine.

What’s more, I let her.

“We’re right here with you,” she says.

I nod against her, take a deep breath.

I want to walk with Jules in the surf.

I want to be able to look out at the ocean and not think about everything I lost, everything I fear I’ll lose again, but feel…

… love.

Happiness.

Freedom and belonging and awe and curiosity.

Space.

I roll my shoulders back and nod again, nod so they can all see me.

“Yay, Hazey!” Peach calls from the end of our line, and I love her for it. She knows exactly why they’re all standing in a line, holding hands with me in the middle. She knows me through and through, her little five-year-old heart loving me no matter what.

“Love you, Fuzzy,” I say, winking at her.

“You can do it,” she says, giving me a thumbs-up with her free hand. “You’re a mermaid!”

I blink at her. “I’m a…”

I glance down at my THE ROSE MAID LIVES shirt.

“Okay,” I say. “But before we, you know”—I swing Jules’s and my joined hands toward the water—“I need to tell you guys something.”

“You actually are a mermaid?” Kiko asks from the end.

Everyone busts out laughing.

“No,” I say, laughing too, but then my smile drops. I gaze out at the water again, mysteries rolling over and over each other with every wave. “I… when I was in the water, I was out pretty far.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lemon says. “I ran down to the dock and couldn’t even see you.”

I nod, take a breath. “Yeah. And then, when I went in, I went down pretty deep and I…”

“Wait, don’t tell us—you saw the Rose Maid,” Kiko says, but she says it in a teasing tone, sarcasm pulling at her vowels. Everyone laughs again.

Everyone except me.

It only takes a second for them all to notice, and their laughter drops flat and fast into the sand. The three of them start talking at once.

Lemon: “Wait, what?”

Jules: “Hang on, hang on, hang on.”

Kiko: “Say what now?”

Peach just stares at me.

“I didn’t see her,” I say. “I mean, I didn’t actually see her.”

“But you saw… something?” Jules says.

I shake my head, then nod, then shrug. “I don’t know. I was… I mean, technically, I guess you could say I was drowning—I couldn’t find the surface or the bottom, everything was the same dark blue and I didn’t know which way to swim. I was starting to panic and—”

I slip my hand free of Lemon’s for a second, look at my fingers. They’re bare. “I lost my moms’ wedding rings.”

“You what?” Lemon asks.

Tears pile up, just like that, there’s no stopping them. I hadn’t noticed before right now. How had I not noticed? “My mum, Mama, their wedding rings. I found them in Mama’s trunk a few days ago and I was upset and I just wanted to wear them, but then, when I saw Rosemary, I freaked out and they slipped off my finger—”

“When you saw Rosemary?” Kiko shrieks. “What?”

“Shh,” Lemon tells her.

Tears river down my cheeks, a steady stream as I think about those rings floating in the sea. Mama will be heartbroken. She may have taken off her ring, but I know she’ll be upset that I lost them. Even though I was wrong to delete her book, her words are replaceable. These rings aren’t. They’re custom-made, one of a kind, symbols of the promises Mama never got a chance to keep.

Lemon takes my hand again and curls it against her chest. On my other side, Jules squeezes my fingers. My friends give me a second. I breathe. Still, I can feel a million questions shooting down their arms and into my fingers.

“I didn’t see her,” I say again, sniffing, letting the sea air dry the salt on my cheeks. “I think I just… wanted to? So maybe my brain thought her up. Lack of oxygen or something.”

“Or maybe you saw her,” Kiko says, voice dreamy now.

I shake my head. Magic isn’t real. But as I look at my friends, my sister watching me with wide-eyed wonder, all of them here and holding my hands, wanting to listen to me and help me and just… be with me, I realize that’s not true.

Magic is absolutely real.

“What did you see exactly?” Jules asks softly.

So I tell them about the pale-haired girl who looked like me, lace collar at her throat, iridescent tail curling out into the dark water. How she held my shoulders and kissed my cheek and how it felt like she pulled me to the surface.

How it felt like she saved me.

When I’m done with my tale, they’re silent.

For what feels like forever.

“Hello?” I say.

“I mean,” Lemon finally says, clearing her throat. “You look like her, so I guess it would make sense that you saw… yourself? Saving yourself?”

Her nose and eyebrows wrinkle up as she poses her theory. Then, at the exact same time, she and Kiko and Jules all say “Nah!” and start screaming. I mean, literally screaming. Kiko curves around so she joins up with Peach and soon they’re all jumping up and down in a circle, yanking me along and squealing. They start chanting “The Rose Maid lives, the Rose Maid lives!” over and over and I can’t help but laugh and join in, even though I know we’re all just playing make-believe, hoping for something huge and fantastical in our little lives.

As I watch their faces, smiles and tears from laughter, eyes shining, I’m not sure if the Rose Maid lives or not, but I do know this.

Hazel Bly lives.

“Ready?” Jules asks me.

I swallow.

“She’s so ready,” Lemon says.

We’re still on the beach, the Rose Maid celebrated and forgotten again. For now, at least. The sun is starting to sink behind us, late-afternoon light soft and hazy. Jules holds my hand again, fingers intertwined, Lemon holds my other, palm pressed to palm. Kiko is at the end, Peach latched on to Jules.

I close my eyes.

Breathe.

“I’m ready.”

Then we run, all five of us connected, straight into the sea. The water hits my feet, my bare legs, my head and my heart, cool and familiar and beautiful, like coming home.